


a posteriori

by SugarHighs



Series: you are the cause of my euphoria [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu is the biggest hoe known to mankind, Falling In Love, Fluff and Crack, M/M, breathe if you're in love with Sakusa Kiyoomi, rated T for Atsumu's potty mouth, tbh just crack, very gratuitous use of twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarHighs/pseuds/SugarHighs
Summary: “Who here thinks that Omi-omi is the hottest.” Atsumu’s voice is breaking.Everyone looks at Sakusa, who is blissfully unaware to the drama around him. He’s changed out of the towel into white practice shorts, with black knee guards underneath. He hasn’t put on his shirt, so the whole room can see water glistening on his pale, perfect skin, dotted with a constellation of moles, and dripping from his elegant black curls, which are swept messily back, so that only half of his forehead is visible. He must have done a morning workout before official practice, because his back muscles are thick and defined, and tightly corded in his biceps like velvet over steel. As the team watches, Sakusa gives his hair one final rub with his towel, and then shrugs on his practice shirt, his abs flexing. His head pops out from the neck of the shirt, such that his curls bounce almost sensually in ripples from the top of his head.One after another, the whole team slowly raises their hands.-After a Twitter poll crowns Sakusa as the hottest member of the Black Jackals, Atsumu sets off on a quest to prove the Internet (and himself) wrong.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: you are the cause of my euphoria [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974688
Comments: 39
Kudos: 655





	a posteriori

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. all references to real twitter accounts are completely coincidental tyty

Atsumu saunters into the Black Jackals locker room on a bright Monday morning, whistling loudly and off-key.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Meian remarks. Most of the team is already in the room, in their various stages of pre-practice rituals.

Atsumu grins at the team and the world at large. “When am I not, cap’n?”

Inunaki snorts at that. “Is anyone gonna answer that, or can I do the honours?”

Atsumu pays him no mind, and kindly puts it down to Inunaki’s recent string of unsuccessful dates. That’s how generous he’s feeling today. He’d woken up before his alarm this morning, and actually had breakfast that wasn’t a protein shake or an energy bar. It’s partially cloudy outside, and the weather forecaster on the radio declares thundery showers that night, which is just perfect.

The team’s agent had also contacted him this morning to tell him that he’d be doing a shoot for an underwear ad later this week, which is Atsumu’s favourite kind simply because of how ego-boosting it was to see thousands of worshippers gather on Twitter when the ad hits the streets. Atsumu knows that somewhere on the Internet, there is an adage that reading everything people has to say about you is unhealthy. Not for Atsumu, because you better believe he obsessively reads every single reply to his photoshoots, _and_ replies his haters with tasteful selfies and emojis.

Overall, it had been a fantastic morning thus far, and Atsumu is ready to make it a fantastic day. With how his new serve is progressing, Atsumu thinks there is literally nothing that can spoil his day.

“Have you guys seen this poll?” Bokuto bursts into the locker room, waving his phone wildly.

Shouyou, Bokuto’s loyal disciple, excitedly demands to see it. Bokuto clears his throat, and reads aloud to the locker room at large.

It’s a collection of polls by a sports magazine’s Twitter account, ranking the members of the Jackals in different categories: most improved, funniest, best smile (it’s a tie between Shouyou and Bokuto for that one, no surprises there) etcetera. All of this fails to capture Atsumu’s attention as he smiles and nods along for the most part while changing into practice clothes, until Bokuto gets to “hottest member”.

Atsumu scrambles across the locker room with his pants only halfway up his legs, earning a dirty look from Sakusa (rich coming from him, given that he currently only has a towel wrapped around his waist as he emerges from the showers). Atsumu all but snatches the phone from Bokuto’s hands. He feels like his day is about to get even better.

He could not have been more wrong.

**VOLLEYBALL MONTHLY POLL: WHO IS THE HOTTEST MEMBER OF THE MSBY BLACK JACKALS?**

59% Sakusa Kiyoomi

22% Miya Atsumu

15% Bokuto Koutarou

Atsumu doesn’t bother reading the rest, and lets out an affronted shriek. Shouyou peers over his shoulder. “Congrats, Omi-san!” he exclaims. “That’s a crazy margin between you and Atsumu-san- ow, Meian-san, why are you elbowing me?”

“It’s just a poll,” Barnes says, although he looks incredibly amused (probably because he got voted best ass, the smug bastard). “I’m sure not every fan of Atsumu got to vote in it, anyway.”

“Although the magazine is the most popular sports one in Japan,” Bokuto chirps. Atsumu makes a mental note not to toss to Bokuto _or_ Shouyou today. They can spike again when they’re more supportive of their setter, goddammit. “And I think both Tsum-tsum and Sakkun are hot!”

“This is impossible,” Atsumu declares, violently pushing himself up from the bench and also his brief spiral into despair. He jumps onto the bench, and feels several pairs of eyes immediately snap to him, which is just the way he likes it. “Who thinks that I’m the hottest one here?”

Dead silence. Shouyou and Bokuto, his two loving hitters, have developed a sudden interest in the concrete tiles at their feet. Inunaki wears a shit-eating grin, and Meian and Tomas are rolling their eyes, like, _Not this shit again_.

“Who here thinks that Omi-omi is the hottest.” Atsumu’s voice is breaking.

Everyone looks at Sakusa, who is blissfully unaware to the drama around him, his Airpods (it’s not like he bought them- Atsumu moped for a whole day when he found out that Apple had chosen Sakusa as their ambassador over _him_ ) in his ears. Atsumu knows he likes to listen to music right before practices and games- classical music, because Sakusa is nothing if not a giant nerd. He’s changed out of the towel into white practice shorts, with black knee guards underneath. He hasn’t put on his shirt, so the whole room can see water glistening on his pale, perfect skin, dotted with a constellation of moles, and dripping from his elegant black curls, which are swept messily back, so that only half of his forehead is visible. He must have done a morning workout before official practice, because his back muscles are thick and defined, and tightly corded in his biceps like velvet over steel. As the team watches, Sakusa gives his hair one final rub with his towel, and then shrugs on his practice shirt, his abs flexing. His head pops out from the neck of the shirt, such that his curls bounce almost sensually in ripples from the top of his head.

One after another, the whole team slowly raises their hands.

Atsumu jumps down from the bench. “Fuck you, fuck you,” he points to Sakusa’s back, “and fuck you, _especially_. I’ve never been this insulted in my life, thank you very much!”

With that, he storms out of the locker room and slams the door to the bellowing guffaws of his backstabbing, good-for-nothing teammates.

-

Of course, Atsumu’s plan to never toss to any of those two-faced assholes again doesn’t pan out quite like he’d planned. This is firstly because no one told him as he left the room that 1, his pants were still around his ankles, and 2, he had forgotten to put his shoes on. After he’d doubled back barefooted (to a fresh round of laughter), Shouyou had told him that no matter what, you still have the best thighs here, Atsumu-san! So that had placated him for a bit.

Secondly, he’d devised a plan of sorts, over the course of practice. He, Miya Atsumu, was going to prove to the world that he was unequivocally the hottest member of the MSBY Black Jackals, and thus the hottest volleyball player in the V League right now. He’s going to make everyone eat their words, or die trying.

Immediately after practice, he rushes home to put his plan into motion. Last time Osamu visited his apartment, he’d left behind a ring light and a tripod he used to take professional-looking shots of Onigiri Miya’s newest dishes. Atsumu sets it up beside his window, right as the sun is setting. He fluffs up his freshly washed-and-blow-dried hair, which is now glowing thanks to the lighting, and whips off his shirt for good measure.

“Golden hour,” he captions the photo of him looking dramatically out of the window, resting his chin on his palm. He uploads it to his official Twitter account, and then quickly switches to his secret Twitter account he uses for the specific purpose of hyping up his own replies. It is a well-known fact that Twitter user @msbyjackasses is the Black Jackals fan account with the most number of followers on any social media platform. It is a much, much lesser-known fact that number one Black Jackals fan account @msbyjackasses is run by one Miya Atsumu.

He replies to his official account’s tweet with “step on me Atsumu-senpai” before scrolling through the rest of the replies. As anticipated, his loyal fans are going nuts, many of them typing out long strings of random alphabets in capital letters. Then he sees that his loving teammates and friends have replied.

**@Hinata_Shouyou** Looking good, Atsumu-san!

**@Meian_MSBY** Good to see you spending your post-practice time productively, Atsumu.

> **@BarnesOriver_Official** Nice kill captain!

**@BokutoBokuto** NICE GUNS, BRO.

**@SunaRintarou** LMAO **@OnigiriMiya** isn’t that your ring light in the reflection of the mirror behind Atsumu

> **@OnigiriMiya** omfg ya it is ffs tsumu I’ve been looking for it everywhere

**@InuInunaki** lmao is this bc that magazine said Sakusa is hotter than u

> **@Kurooooo** the volume on this bus is astronomical

Atsumu reports Inunaki’s tweet, and then resumes his scrolling. The replies are overwhelmingly positive, and his fans may be annoying, but they are reliable, as always. He sets up a poll of his own (using his fan account of course), and demands for his followers to vote for the hottest MSBY member again “because we must defeat the unelected press with the collective power of the people”.

He turns off his phone, and goes around preparing dinner. Osamu drops by with Suna, and spends dinner mocking the pout he’d done in his selfie. Suna laughs with him, that smug ass. In his own apartment, and eating the food _he_ cooked, too! Atsumu reins in his temper, keeping his mind focused on happy things, like getting to scroll through Twitter later to read the validating comments from his dedicated fans, and shoos them out as soon as they’re done helping him clean out on the advent of having to leave early tomorrow for an away match in Sendai.

After packing a small duffel for their tournament- they’d be staying at a hotel for it- Atsumu settles under the covers to check his phone.

68% Sakusa. Atsumu can barely type, his hands shaking with pure rage.

**@msbyjackasses** WAIT WHY THO.

> **@shouyoustan** I mean all the jackals are hot as fuck, but Sakusa is just *chef’s kiss*

> **@bokutospecs** have you seen his smirk when he pulls off a nasty spike? hot damn.

> **@atsumushoe** Atsumu’s selfie jn killed me, but Motoya’s ig post? sent me to heaven

Atsumu narrows his eyes, and goes to look at Motoya’s Instagram. Motoya has indeed posted a photo of Sakusa eating dinner, sitting cross-legged on the tatami mat in his apartment. He’s dressed in soft grey sweatpants and a loose white shirt, and he’s clearly mid-chew on his sushi, so his jaw flexes obscenely and his cheekbones are all the more pronounced. His eyes are downcast, clearly unaware of the photo being taken, and his long, thick lashes frame his eyes in a way that is just plain unfair.

Motoya captions the photo: “Thanks @SakusaKiyoomi_Official for dinner! (That’s right ladies, he can cook too!)”

Atsumu goes to text Osamu immediately. _u r literally the most useless twin in the world._

Osamu replies immediately. _bc I didn’t post a photo of ur cooking n upload it for the world to see? it wasn’t that gd anyway lolol_.

_NO THAT’S NOT THE REASON_ , Atsumu lies. _AND UR NEVER ALLOWED AT MY PLACE AGAIN_.

_lmao then who’re u gonna call the next time u lock urself out of ur apartment_

Atsumu huffs, and throws his phone onto his bedside table before pulling his duvet above his head. It seems like it is harder to convert the weak-minded herd than he thought.

-

His mood does not improve the following morning on the bus to Sendai, when he realises that Osamu, that dirty traitor, had screenshotted their chat and posted it on Twitter, along with an unflattering close-up shot he’d taken when Atsumu was taking a nap in their high school club room, mouth open and drooling. His caption is, _u can try all u want but u’ll never be on the same level as Sakusa-kun_. “Miya Atsumu Clown School” is trending at number 8 on Twitter. Worst of all, Sakusa’s share of votes on the poll on his _own fan account_ has increased to 80%.

Atsumu lets out an outraged gasp, and is immediately shushed by Bokuto. He glares at the giant man-child, who’s hanging off the back of his seat. Bokuto points at Sakusa. “Look at Sakkun!” he whisper-shouts.

Across the aisle from Atsumu, Sakusa has fallen asleep, which is nothing out of the ordinary for a ten-hour bus ride. What Bokuto, and half the team it seems, is staring at is the fact that Sakusa’s head has fallen back onto the top of the headrest, because he is tall as hell, and his eyelids are fluttering in his sleep. His black curls have fallen into his eyes, somehow further accentuating his lashes (Atsumu refuses to believe those aren’t extensions), and he’s letting out little puffs of air through his nose, his brows furrowing in his sleep.

“Cute,” Inunaki breathes. “He’s so fucking cute.”

And he is. Atsumu feels something in his chest tighten uncomfortably, and squirms in his seat. Shouyou notices, damn his animal senses, and snaps his head towards Atsumu with those Bambi-brown eyes of his. “Atsumu-san, are you ok? You look a little feverish.”

“I ate a spicy onigiri for lunch just now,” Atsumu gives Shouyou what he thinks is his best sunny smile. Shouyou ducks behind Inunaki’s back, which is just ridiculous because it’s not like Inunaki covers much of Shouyou’s already tiny stature anyway. 

Looking at Sakusa’s stupidly adorable sleeping face, which is currently half concealed by his surgical mask, Atsumu begins to cook up another plot. Surely, under that mask, Sakusa’s mouth must be twisted into a ridiculous snarl by the bitterness that must live within him twenty-four seven. Surely, he must be drooling. Surely, Sakusa couldn’t look so perfect all the time.

When they all pile into the lobby of their hotel in Sendai, Atsumu doesn’t waste a second before calling, “I want to share a room with Omi-omi!”

Everyone looks at him with surprise- Sakusa glares at him with suspicion. He knows this is because Sakusa is a notoriously difficult roommate, who insists on wiping down every surface before they settle in, amongst other strict rules and regulations he has. It’s because of this that Meian had to put in place a random allocation system, so no one would have to be handed the sentence of sharing rooms with him twice in a row.

“If you insist,” Meian-san shrugs, and tosses him a key card. Atsumu definitely does not fumble to catch it, and he breezes into the lifts with a, “This way, Omi!”

Behind him, Sakusa lets out a long-suffering sigh, and tells the team, “If you find me dead tomorrow it’s Atsumu’s fault.”

Atsumu pretends not to hear that, and gallantly holds the lift door open for Sakusa so that he doesn’t have to press the buttons in the lift. He sees Sakusa nod in appreciation as Atsumu does this again at their room, and even helps Sakusa with his disinfecting routine. He doesn’t even whine when Sakusa sprays disinfectant all over his body, and helps Sakusa spray down both their suitcases and carries them into the room for Sakusa, after changing into his hotel slippers and putting his shoes and socks neatly in a corner.

“Why’re you being so nice today?” Sakusa is staring at him with round eyes. He’d pushed his hair out of his face to carry out his cleaning routine, but a few strands have fallen back into his eyes, and. Those eyelashes. Those eyebrows. That face. Atsumu gulps.

“No reason!” his voice is a pitch higher than usual. “If I don’t help you get ready, who knows how long I’ll be standing in the corridor for, right?”

Sakusa does not buy that shit, but he lets it slide as he announces that he will be taking a shower first, as usual. Atsumu sits on the recently disinfected carpet because he doesn’t want Sakusa to think he’s a monster for sitting on his bed in dirty clothes, and points his phone towards the bathroom door, ready to capture a series of well-timed photos of Sakusa with his mask off.

Just as his arms are beginning to ache, the bathroom door clicks open. Atsumu pretends to take a couple of selfies, all the while snapping photos of Sakusa emerging from the bathroom in a fluffy white bathrobe, furiously toweling his hair dry.

“You’re so vain,” Sakusa casts a disdainful glance towards Atsumu, curled up in a corner of the room. “Go and shower, please. You stink.”

Atsumu sticks his tongue out at him, but heads into the bathroom anyway. It smells of Sakusa’s antibacterial soap, and his mint shampoo. Atsumu’s Fruity & Fun 2-in-1 hair and body soap is exiled at the opposite end of the shelf, like Sakusa’s expensive range of hair care products and exfoliating gels and whatnot are saying, _you can’t sit with us_.

He scrolls through the pictures he’d taken, and howls in frustration. Sakusa bangs on the bathroom door and warns him that if he’s doing anything freaky in there, he will personally march in there and throttle the life out of Atsumu.

Atsumu wisely avoids making some sort of wisecrack about Sakusa wanting to see him naked, and continues to scroll through the pictures with no little consternation. Sakusa looks like he’s just stepped out of the pages of Vogue. Despite it being a regular hotel bathrobe, Sakusa manages to make it look expensive and limited-edition, with his marble countenance and Greek god curls. Water is dripping enticingly down his neck, disappearing into the bathrobe, tantalizing whoever the viewer is. Although Atsumu had expected Sakusa to be scowling unattractively at him, there is amusement playing at the corner of his mouth, lifting it into a half smirk that makes Atsumu swallow again. One of the sleeves of his bathrobe has fallen slightly as he towels his hair, exposing the muscles in his forearm, which are flexed into firm, hard lines. Atsumu thinks he’s stopped breathing altogether.

He creates a Telegram chat for his teammates, sans Sakusa himself, of course.

**Me [21:19]**

(9 photos)

**Me [21:19]**

guys wtf

**Boke Bokkun [21:19]**

WOAH Sakkun looks great???

**Shouyou <3 [21:20]**

YEAH *heart emoji* *heart eyes emoji*

**Captain [21:23]**

I think you are all missing the point here

Which is- why are you taking secret pictures of Sakusa, Atsumu?

**shithead [21:23]**

lmao tsumu ur such a creep

**Me [21:23]**

speak for urself inunaki u hv twice cutouts in ur room

**Boke Bokkun [21:23]**

inunaki’s creepiness doesn’t detract frm ur own tsum-tsum

**Me [21:24]**

????

**Shouyou <3 [21:24]**

????

**shithead [21:24]**

????

**Boke Bokkun [21:25]**

I learnt that word from Keiji!!!! did I use it correctly??

**Captain [21:25]**

Yes you did Bokuto-kun I’m so proud of you

**buff boy Barnes [21:26]**

But back to the stalker-ish photos

**Me [21:26]**

stfu do u guys not find it creepy

**shithead [21:26]**

you?

**Me [21:26]**

that omi has no bad pics?? wtf

**shithead [21:26]**

LOLOL he’s still jealous bc of the stupid poll GAHAHAH

**Boke Bokkun [21:27]**

don’t mind don’t mind! I’m sure u hv many other attributes tsum-tsum

**adriah tommy [21:27]**

nice kill Bokuto!

**buff boy Barnes [21:27]**

lmao Bokuto is on a fucking ROLL today

**Me [21:27]**

I’M GNA BLOCK ALL OF U ISTG

**Captain [21:28]**

Atsumu, there’s nothing you can do if Sakusa happens to be naturally photogenic

And you should be focusing on our match tomorrow instead of this

**Me [21:28]**

idc I can do both Meian-san

I’M GNA TAKE A BAD PIC OF OMI N PROVE IT TO Y’ALL

**Captain [21:28]**

Let the gods witness I’ve tried

Captain has left the chat

**Me [21:29]**

If my body is found tmr it’s bc omi killed me

**shithead [21:30]**

and yet none of us will tell the police that

When Atsumu gets out of the shower, he sees Sakusa already tucked under the covers, eyes closed with a gooey purple facial mask on his face. He feels a flicker of vindication at that- he knew there was no way his skin was naturally perfect and glowing all the time. Sakusa sleeps like a dead person in a coffin, which is to say he lies completely flat on his bed, arms crossed over his chest in an X. With his pale countenance, sharply contrasted with his jet-black hair, one would easily mistake him for a corpse.

Atsumu sniggers to himself at the sight, and pulls out his phone. Sure, Sakusa’s impossibly long lashes are still visible, and he still looks like an angel, but the difference is that he’s now an angel with purple gel on his face. Not even the horniest person alive can find that hot.

He tiptoes over, and holds his phone in front of his face, sticking out his tongue and throwing up a peace sign. Before he can immortalize this triumph, however, Sakusa’s phone rings loudly from the bedside table, and Atsumu actually drops his phone in shock.

“Why are you on the floor,” Sakusa says flatly when he sits up to find Atsumu face down on the carpet, arms stretched out in front of him, clutching his phone.

“I like it down here,” Atsumu says, his voice muffled from where his face is squished against the carpet. “The carpet smells like your disinfectant spray.”

“You’re so weird,” Sakusa mutters. He steps over his body neatly, and Atsumu hears him wash off the residue of the mask and lets out a sigh. It’s ok, he thinks, tomorrow is another day.

-

Tomorrow _is_ another day, but no one told Atsumu that it wasn’t going to be a _better_ day.

The Black Jackals had won all their matches that day, mostly by large margins, but Atsumu wasn’t celebrating. That was mainly because Sakusa had chosen that day to walk into the locker room with a. A man bun, sitting on top of his head and announcing its own glory as Sakusa walked past all the blatant stares, totally oblivious.

Meian-san was the first to find his voice, asking Sakusa if he planned to keep his hair that way for all future matches. Sakusa had shrugged, and Atsumu noticed how he’d chosen to leave his fringe down, letting his curls artfully frame his face. “It’s more cooling,” he’d explained, and Atsumu had thought, inadvertently, _Not for me, it isn’t_.

Sakusa’s new hairstyle captures the attention of their spectators and the commentators too, to no one’s surprise. Atsumu swears he hears an audible gasp when Sakusa steps out onto the court, and when Sakusa lands a wicked shot right next to the opponent’s libero, the commentators describe the way his new hair make the lines of his form even clearer, and not how Atsumu’s set put him in the perfect spot to do that.

He finds that he doesn’t actually mind that part, Sakusa taking the spotlight instead of him. Atsumu knows he can’t compete with that shit- he tried a man bun once, and Osamu had burst into cackles when he saw the little yellow knot on his dark natural hair.

The part Atsumu does mind is the fact that, quite alarmingly, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind that the only time he’d gotten some semblance of a spotlight was when he’d stepped out into the arena right before Sakusa, doesn’t mind that his insanely cool toss from the back of the court went largely unnoticed, and, worst of all, doesn’t mind that “Sakusa Kiyoomi” is trending at number 1 in Japan. That last part was an amalgamation of Sakusa’s new hairdo, and also a video Bokuto just posted on Twitter.

They’re at the post-tournament after party, a closed-door event, with only players and their families and friends invited, so even Sakusa is here for once. He still has his mask on, though, and Atsumu had caught him rubbing down his seat with disinfectant before sitting down anywhere. Atsumu thought that after the man bun fiasco, he’s ready for everything life can throw at him. Apparently not, because no one warned Atsumu about the perils of Sakusa in a suit, so he (and the rest of the world) is thoroughly unprepared when Sakusa appears next to him at the bar and orders a bourbon (“pour it in my flask, please”) in a sharp charcoal gray suit and a thin black tie.

“Was this why you took so long in the bathroom, Omi?” Atsumu finally finds his voice to tease him. He’s suddenly feeling very frumpy in the suit he’d worn since high school graduation, with pants that hovered above his ankles and an infinite constellation of creases in the jacket.

Sakusa pulls down his mask with his index finger just to frown at Atsumu, and (he can’t lie to himself anymore) he finds that. Quite attractive. Maybe even hot, if he had to admit at gunpoint. Anyway.

Sakusa takes a sip from his metal flask, and Atsumu takes a gulp of air- he realises that he’s forgotten to breathe- and opens his mouth to say something else, when Bokuto bounds over and yanks them towards the dance floor. Which, thank God for that, because he just knows whatever had been about to come out of his mouth was not intelligent, let alone worthy of Sakusa’s “I have a degree in physics because I went to college, Miya” ass.

“I HOPE YOU CAN DANCE,” he shouts to Sakusa, over the din of the music.

The DJ’s playing a funky upbeat number Atsumu doesn’t know the name of, but he bops to it anyway, along with the other members of their team who have materialized out of nowhere to form a loose circle around Sakusa so that he doesn’t have to touch other people in the crowd, like Atsumu had told them to. He wants to say he did it out of the goodness of his heart, but then he’d be lying. More accurately, this was a last-ditch attempt on his part to prove that Sakusa Kiyoomi _cannot_ be the hottest member of the Black Jackals because he _cannot dance_. And he wants Sakusa to be in the centre of attention when everyone realises that, preferably with a few cameras rolling.

He is so, so wrong.

The video Bokuto ends up posting on Twitter has some sort of filter over it, so there is a soft purple glow over Sakusa’s face and arms as he elegantly shrugs his shoulders to the beat of the song. Fortunately, he’s changed back into his regular half slicked-back hairstyle, but the way the lines of his body move is still so obscene it should be illegal. When the beat drops, he flings his head back so that the light illuminates his sharp jawline, shiny with sweat, and Atsumu has never been this offended in his life.

Fuck this. He makes a sharp 180 and heads for the bar. He needs another drink.

-

The video gets a million views in an hour, and “Sakusa Kiyoomi” starts trending then too, with screenshots of Sakusa in midair in today’s matches to accompany it. Atsumu supposes he should take it as some sort of consolation, then, that “Miya Atsumu Clown School” is trailing after it at number 2, not the least because of that same video, where Atsumu can be seen behind Sakusa, bouncing on the balls of his feet while wearing a look that bears no little similarity to the shocked Pikachu meme Atsumu has seen making it’s rounds on the Internet.

Atsumu’s sitting on the toilet again, aggressively replying to his haters on Twitter. He can hear Sakusa moving about in the room through the toilet door, and the whisky-induced haze he was in has faded to a mild buzz, thanks to the cold shower he just took.

He’s resigned to it, he thinks, the fact that the universe is just cruel, putting him in the proximity as someone who, after the events of the past few days, is probably the male version of a modern-day Adonis, bar his nether regions, which Atsumu definitely does not think of. The universe is cruel, so not only is he beaten out by this modern-day Adonis, he can’t help but feel-

“Oi.” Sakusa’s sharp raps on the bathroom door wrench Atsumu back from that dangerous line of thought. “If you’re going to be using your phone instead of showering, at least do it outside so I can use the shower.”

Atsumu jumps up. “I knew it, Omi,” he screeches, hastily wrapping a towel around his waist and yanking the bathroom door open. “Ya pervert, plantin’ a camera in the-”

A flash goes off in his face, and he winces. Sakusa lowers his phone, and smiles at the screen.

For the second or third time in his life, Atsumu is too shocked for words. “Wha’?”

Sakusa turns the phone towards him. The picture he’s taken of him is better than anything taken by a professional photographer. The bathroom lights in the background are blurred enough to look artistic, and Atsumu never knew a candid of him could look so… not unflattering. But what catches Atsumu’s eye first is how a tiny, barely visible smile is playing at the corner of his mouth, even as he opens his mouth to shout at Sakusa.

Sakusa snatches his phone back and his long, freaky, beautiful fingers fly across the keyboard. Atsumu has never been allowed to stand within half a meter of Sakusa before, and up this close, he realises that Sakusa, against all odds, has a tiny earring dangling from one ear. There’s a shiny black stud on his other ear, and that. That is when he truly gives up.

“And… send tweet,” Sakusa’s eyes gleam. Atsumu must still be incapable of human speech, because what comes out of his mouth is an ungraceful, “Unh?”

“You’re not always that atrocious-looking, when you don’t try that hard,” Sakusa says casually, as if he didn’t just run over Atsumu’s brain with a giant tractor. He edges past him into the bathroom, so gracefully that not a single part of him so much as brushes against Atsumu. He is well and truly fucked.

“Don’t just stand there. Go retweet your picture on your fan account, or something,” Sakusa calls, and shuts the bathroom door in his gaping face as Atsumu finally unfreezes and pivots around.

Atsumu hears Sakusa let out a low, distinct chuckle. His heart leaps after it.

-

**@SakusaKiyoomiOfficial** Bathroom hogger [photo]

> **@BokutoBokuto** TSUM TSUM IS A HOTTIE

> **@atsumushoe** the sakuatsu gods have blessed us today???? my crops are watered as FUCK

> **@tossmeatsumu** your honour are they…………

> **@Meian_MSBY** At this point it’s honestly just a question of who’s going to get arrested for stalking first, Sakusa or Atsumu

> **@InuInunaki** lmao **@SakusaKiyoomiOfficial** you do know that atsumu is not a good person and does not deserve this right

-

**@msbyjackasses** Did you guys know that

> **@shouyoustan** yes

> **@adlers_updates** yes

> **@atsumushoe** yes

> **@sakusasupremacy** yes

> **@InuInunaki** yes

> **@SakusaKiyoomiOfficial** yes

> **@Meian_MSBY** yes

> **@SunaRintarou** yes

> **@OnigiriMiya** yes

> **@AkaashiKeiji** yes

> **@BokutoBokuto** know what!!!!!!! tell us!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been floating in my head since I posted my first piece (thank you for all your kind comments on it <3) and I finally found time to write it! It is significantly less tooth-rotting fluff, and more veritably insane crack, but I hope you like it all the same. The title of this piece is "a posteriori", which is both a reference to the knowledge about Sakusa's hotness that Atsumu infers from observation and experience, and also because Sakusa has a nice posterior and Atsumu knows it. This can be read as a companion piece to my first fic (link to it is below this endnote), and as always, feedback is very much appreciated. Thank you!


End file.
